Tempt Me (16 page)

Her face heated as she remembered him, sauntering into the bathroom, tousle-haired, sleepy-eyed and wearing nothing but skin, sporting a boyish grin, a night’s growth of beard, and an erection that wouldn’t quit.

In the end, it had been the grin that made her intention to quickly bathe and then leave evaporate like hot steam. She could have steeled herself against a studied seduction attempt, but lazy anticipation? Boyish delight? His unconscious sigh of pleasure as he’d joined her under the water cascading from the showerheads, content to simply hold her, to savor the touch of the hot liquid sluicing over their skin? She’d stared as ropes of his wet hair sent rivulets trickling down his long, lean form. Finally, his artist’s hands had slicked abstract patterns over her wet body as if she was a live canvas before lifting her easily in his arms, supporting her weight against the tile wall as he flexed his hips into hers, again and again...

No, she had not been able to resist.

And now she was going to be late for breakfast with Jack. She plucked her mini out of her purse, noting the time. After scanning for messages—nothing from Jack saying
he
was running late, of course—she sent him a text saying she’d be slightly delayed. Maybe sometime between now and then, her blissed-out expression would fade slightly. No way would Jack miss it; he was simply too observant.

Out of long habit, she quickly checked the status messages thrown by the Sebastiani Labs and Sebastiani Security networks overnight. Nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe they had the woman Wyatt had been chatting up at Chadden’s bar last night to thank for the lack of malicious activity.

The elevator slowly drew to a stop, and the chime announcing her arrival at the penthouse level sounded unnaturally loud. Bending, she picked up her bags. When the elevator doors opened, there stood Rafe’s father, his own leather computer bag hanging on his shoulder, eyes glued to his mini.

Shit.

“Bailey,” Elliott said with a wide smile. “Good morning.” As she stumbled off the elevator into the penthouse foyer, he took her heavy computer bag. “Long night?” he asked, kissing her on both cheeks in his courtly way.

“Um, yeah,” she mumbled.
Thanks to your son.

The elevator doors closed—without Elliott on board. He was setting her bags next to Sasha’s door.

Damn.

And she’d worried about facing Sasha and Antonia? Elliott Sebastiani, inventor, CEO of Sebastiani Labs, and President of the Underworld Council, had scythe-sharp perceptive skills. No way he’d miss his son’s scent on her body. She, a mere human, could smell it herself.

Yep, there it was, the most subtle flare of Elliott’s patrician nostrils as he studied her, assessing and absorbing her emotional energy. It was all she could do not to raise her hands to her burning cheeks. She could practically see him sorting her snarled feelings into mental buckets—embarrassment, confusion, exhaustion, satisfaction—and at the moment, embarrassment was duking it out with satisfaction for dominance. The pills she’d taken seemed to have worked as designed, keeping her thoughts clean and crisp—all the better to marvel at the way Rafe pulled responses from her body that she’d never imagined were possible.

Was that a wisp of amusement flitting across Elliott’s face? If so, it quickly disappeared. “I don’t like those dark circles under your eyes.” He frowned down at her the way Lukas frequently did. “You’re not getting enough sleep. Make sure you delegate everything you can to Cheyenne and her team.”

She nodded. If he wasn’t going to mention Rafe, neither was she. “I’ll catch a nap this afternoon.”

He was looking at her too closely. His steely eyes saw way too much. “Good,” he finally responded.

There was a quiet digital blip, the sound of water dropping. Elliott looked at his mini with a sigh. “My ride is here.”

There was no mistaking his annoyance, but the fact that he
was
annoyed meant he probably didn’t plan on giving his security team the slip this morning. He did so occasionally, and it drove Lukas nuts. She pressed the elevator call button, and the doors whisked open. “Don't work too hard.”

“Remember to take that nap.” He held her gaze for several long seconds, smiled, and gently kissed the top of her head.

She swallowed hard as her throat filled, as her eyes stung with unexpected tears.

Sasha’s apartment door suddenly opened, and her black and fuchsia-haired head poked from behind the fortified slab. “Hey, Dad. Bailey, I thought I heard you out here. Anyone in the mood for breakfast?”

Shaking his head, Elliott stepped onto the elevator. “Thanks, sweetheart, but I ate with Claudette. My ride’s here, and I’m keeping the driver waiting. Have a good day, girls.” He waved as the doors slowly closed.

She sighed in relief. All things being equal, she’d rather deal with Sasha than Elliott. “I’m sorry, Sasha, I can’t either. I’m supposed to meet Jack for breakfast, and I’m running late.” Her mini pinged, announcing an incoming text message. “Hang on a sec?” At Sasha’s nod, she quickly read. It was Jack, asking if they could get together later that afternoon at Sebastiani Security instead of meeting for breakfast. “Jack needs to reschedule.” After sending a quick reply, she tucked the mini into her pants pocket. She was tired of carrying the thing. “Something’s come up.”

“Probably his penis.”

For someone who claimed to have no interest herself, Sasha sure was interested in Jack’s sex life.

““He’s supposed to be your best friend,” Sasha continued. “Ditching you for another woman is tacky and rude.”

She’d seriously considered ditching Jack herself so she could laze about in bed with Rafe. “No biggie. I’ll see him later this afternoon.” Good for Jack if he’d had an overnight guest. These days, he was wound
way
too tight.

Weren’t they all?

“Shit, the bacon!” Sasha blurted. She disappeared, leaving Bailey to follow.

Entering the apartment, she ditched the bags, hung up her coat, and unzipped her boots, setting them next to Antonia’s platform Doc Martens. She padded in her stocking feet to the bright, kitschy kitchen, where Sasha transferred the rescued bacon from a pan to a napkin-covered plate. The dainty wrought iron table was covered by a red and white checked tablecloth, and a cheerful pot of out-of-season violets served as a centerpiece.

There were two place settings of black Fiestaware on the table, not three. “Where’s Antonia?” Setting the mini on the table, she snitched a slice of bacon off the plate Sasha had set next to a Pyrex pan of broccoli egg bake.

“Not home. It’s just you and me this morning.” Sasha about-faced, went back to the countertop, and pumped two cups of Crack House Blend from an air pot covered in whimsical Holstein spots. “Have you seen Antonia’s tablet? She tore the place apart looking for it last night.”

“Geez.” Had it really taken Antonia three freaking days to notice it was missing? Explaining to Sasha what she’d done and why—and that Rafe had taken the tablet home with him after dinner earlier in the week to help teach Antonia a lesson—she popped the rest of the bacon into her mouth and chewed. “All the malware and virus protection in the world won’t help if she can’t keep physical control of her equipment.”

“Here. Have some coffee.”

“Thanks.” Accepting the mug, she took a grateful gulp while Sasha settled into the adjacent chair.

“So, you and Rafe finally did the deed.”

She coughed, slapping her hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t sputter coffee all over the table.

“Thank you for putting him out of his misery, by the way,” Sasha added. Half-standing, she served them both a small portion of egg bake. The delicate scent of herbs and garlic danced into the room. “So, how was it?”

Jesus.
After one final series of barking coughs, she glared at Sasha and took a careful sip of coffee, following it with a soothing gulp. “No comment.”
Put him out of his misery? What the...
She narrowed her eyes. “Is that my T-shirt?” Under Sasha’s unzipped fleece jacket,
The Big Bang Theor
y’s Dr. Sheldon Cooper said, “Bazinga!”

“It’s a roommate thing,” Sasha informed her with a wave of her hand. “Roommates borrow each other’s clothes, shoes and make-up, and dish about their sex lives.” She settled back in the delicate ice cream parlor chair. “So, dish.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not going to talk to you about having sex with your brother. That’s...really skeevy.” And she had no clue how she’d describe the experience using mere words.

“Not in a family of incubi and succubi,” Sasha said with a shrug. “Haven’t you ever, you know, compared notes with girlfriends?”

“No.” The girls she might have made friends with when she was a child had been too intimidated by her father, and skipping several grades several times certainly hadn’t helped her establish a peer group. She’d been the only woman in her grad program, and after she’d met Wyatt, he’d become the center of her world. They’d worked together, studied together, lived together, slept together. Wyatt’s wants and needs had been paramount. Her own hadn’t even been on her radar.

And she’d let it happen.

“Hey.” Sasha’s impish face settled into more serious lines. “Talk to me.”

She bit her lip, tempted. Rafe’s sister or not, maybe a succubi’s point of view was exactly what she needed right now. Though Sasha might tease, she’d never judge. And they
were
friends. How odd it was that her first real girlfriend wasn’t even human. “So.” How to say this? “Say a human’s decided to have a—” she cleared her throat “—mutually satisfying physical relationship with an incubus.” ‘Satisfying’? What an inadequate word. “How do you know which feelings are produced by pheromones, and which ones are real?”

Sasha set her fork down with a clank. “All of your feelings are real. They’re real because you’re experiencing them.”

“But how do you keep what’s physical from blurring into the emotional? How do you keep your emotions out of the mix?”

“You don’t.” Sasha reached for the salt shaker. “Pheromones exacerbate physical desire, but they can’t create emotions out of thin air.” She salted her eggs with a flourish. “Say you meet a great-looking guy at Underbelly, so hot he smokes. Under the influence of pheromones, you might be more likely to act on that lust, but your feelings are your own.”

And if the guy was smoking hot
and
emotions were involved? How would she manage to sleep with Rafe and keep her heart safe? “When I was with Wyatt, I didn't know which way was up or down.”

“Who’s Wyatt?”

“Wyatt Cooper, my first serious boyfriend.” Her
only
serious boyfriend. How utterly pathetic. “He’s the guy I was dating when I was arrested.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh as she speared into the eggs with the heavy, triple-tined fork. “Correction, he’s the guy who let me take the fall alone, but that’s water under a very long bridge.”

“Classy dude.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah. We—Lukas, Jack and I—are almost certain he's the one behind the recent incursion attempts at Sebastiani Labs.”

“This old boyfriend of yours. Is he stalking you?”

Did leaving romantic cards and beautifully wrapped presents at her hotel room door when she traveled for work qualify as stalking? Mailing things to her condo? Using generic email addresses to ask if she’d enjoyed his gifts? She’d always been too ashamed of how her relationship with Wyatt ended to ask for help, even from Jack. Wyatt had always been her problem, not Jack’s—until recently, that is. Now he was everyone’s problem. That, too, was her fault. “He knows where I work. He knows where I live. The last time I was at my place, with Rafe, Jack and Lukas, he tagged everyone’s cars with surveillance devices.”

“Sounds like he might be escalating.”

He probably was. “He followed Rafe and me to Chadden’s last night. When we were leaving, Rafe saw him.” She paused. “He said Wyatt’s an incubus.”

“Wait, your first lover was an incubus?” Sasha set her coffee mug on the table. “How long ago was this relationship?”

“In grad school. Over a decade ago.”

“Before you knew we existed. That son of a bitch. But on the other hand...” Sasha brought a forkful of eggs to her mouth, chewed, and then swallowed. “Want more coffee?”

Bailey looked down in surprise at her near-empty mug. “Sure. On the other hand what?”

Sasha popped out of the chair and brought the pot to the table. “A human who’s had not just one, but two incubus lovers? You lucky, lucky girl.”

Lucky? Another snort of laughter escaped. During the time she was with Wyatt, she’d felt like the prettiest, smartest, and—yeah—luckiest girl in the world. Until the day the FBI had slapped cuffs on her wrists.

“Scarlett once said that when your first lover is an incubus, it’s all downhill from there,” Sasha added with a grin. 

How true. Wyatt had been the lover that her paltry few subsequent partners had been measured against. They’d all come up short. Until last night. Rafe hadn’t just raised the bar, he’d shattered it.

She dropped her head into her hands. She’d known that Rafe Sebastiani would be a once-in-a-lifetime lover, but she hadn’t thought their relationship through to its inevitable conclusion. The relationship wouldn’t—couldn’t—last.

Once in a lifetime. It
was
going to be all downhill from there. “Hell.”

“Bailey.” Sasha set her cup down with a click. “Incubus or not, Wyatt Cooper sounds like he’s a major league asshole who manipulated a young, inexperienced human, and then broke the law. Don’t blame Rafe for another man’s actions.”

“But—”

“Remember, pheromones only exacerbate physical desire—and yeah,” she acknowledged, “you might make some really poor decisions based on that desire. Been there, done that. But your emotions? They’re yours. They’re always yours.”

Which meant she had only herself to blame for falling in love with Wyatt in the first place. 

Coffee hissed into Sasha’s mug as she pumped the lever on top of the air pot. “So Rafe told you Wyatt was incubus, not Lukas?”

An interesting point she hadn’t previously considered. This extremely pertinent fact
had
to have come up during Lukas’s investigation. Why hadn’t she been told? Did Jack know? She raised her knuckles to her suddenly stinging stomach.